Blasted Penguins!
by GelibeanH20
Summary: Al visits the Central Park Zoo for the first time to have an interesting encounter with the penguins, from then on falling into a world where cartoons are reality and reality is a cartoon. Rated T for language.
1. Chapter 1

I'm Canadian. The only reason that this is important in any way at all is because since I'm Canadian, this is the first time I've been to NY. Because this is the first time I've been to NY, naturally I went to Central Park, and the Central Park zoo.

Before we begin this story, here are a few other things that you may want to know about me; My name is Al, I'm a cartoonist, a writer, a bit of a geek, a young teen girl, and I love penguins. I know it sounds totally girly to say that I would absolutely love to squeeze a penguin. . . but it's true, unfortunately. Give me a break! They're so squeezable!

I only recently fell in love with penguins. Nowadays, there are a kajillion little drawings of penguins in my sketchbook, my avatar is a penguin (in case you haven't noticed) and I look for TV shows involving penguins in any way at all.

Today, I was hanging out at the Central Park zoo. I had no obligations to fulfil that day because I was allowed out for as long as I wanted because my parents weren't there (Mum, if you read this, I promise I will never do anything as stupid as the following! I SWEAR!). As you can imagine, I savoured this victory and went gallivanting around the neighbourhood and beyond.

I wandered throughout the zoo, taking note of the otter habitat (AMG THEY SOO CUTE!), the lemurs, elephants and other animals. I lingered for a particularly long time around the reptile exhibit. For someone who adores penguins, otters and dolphins, you wouldn't think that the creepy crawly lizards, spiders, snakes and komodo dragons would appeal to them. But, then again, I have never fallen into the realms of normal.

I also have a habit of falling into the world of imaginary things.

Right then, I had fallen into that imaginary world where the sky is a bubblegum pink, the clouds are yellow and instead of raining water it rains lemonade. In this imaginary world, there were huge, puffy marshmallows that you could sleep on, but I wouldn't do that because that would be sticky and gross and I really like blankets. There would also be a giant field made of paper with pens, pencils erasers and other art supplies sticking out of the page in a few little random clumps. Food would be brought to me by tiny purple ninjas who would also. . .

I ran smack into a support pillar and clocked my head on the metal. A few people nearby noticed and chuckled a bit, so I ducked my head and blushed, then bowed to them flamboyantly and continued on.

I blinked in the bright sunlight as I left the gloom of the reptile house, and to block it out I pulled my hat down more firmly on my head. It sort of resembled a baseball cap in a weird sort of way, but it didn't have the hole in the back and instead of having a cap and then a brim it sort of merged together into one piece. It's kind of complicated to describe, but all I know is it was a thirty dollar hat and I got it for ten bucks. Pretty good deal for an artist as poor as I.

A cold gust of wind blew through the park and I hugged onto my hoodie for warmth – it wasn't the best choice of clothing for a cold autumn day, but I was used to wandering around in nothing but a hoodie so that's what I always wore.

When I took my hands off of my hat, to hug myself for warmth, the gust of wind blew my hat off of my head and sent it tumbling through the park. I panicked, then took after it, not caring about how cold the weather had suddenly become.

I chased it past the gorilla habitat, the kangaroo exhibit and ran around the chimps who were hanging there by their abnormally long arms, heads cocked as they tried to figure out what I was doing. I finally managed to catch up to it and the penguin exhibit, then I made a leap and stomped on it as hard as I could.

"Finally!" I sighed, reaching down and picking it up. It now had a huge, dark footprint right in the centre from my hiker. "Dammit. . ." I muttered, brushing off the dirt. "Stupid wind. . ."

I glanced up and raised my eyebrows. "Oh. I'm by the penguins. Sweet!"

I hopped to my feet and skipped gaily over to the edge of the rink, standing on tiptoe so I could peer in. There, of course, I saw three tuxedo wearing birds, waddling around. I raised an eyebrow because one of them was standing at the edge of the false ice floe, looking around for something. A few seconds later, another penguin popped up under a hatch beneath their food dish. I jumped slightly, for this startled me, and looked around to see if anyone else around me noticed the sudden appearance of the fourth penguin, but to my surprise no one was around.

Puzzled by this, I glanced up at the giant clock above the entrance of the zoo and discovered that it was closing time. "Oh," I said. "So that's why there aren't many people left."

"You got that right."

The voice was coming from just in front of me, which struck me as odd because I had both hands on the rail. Slowly, I turned my head to look and I came nose-to-nose with a penguin with a flat head. Or, more appropriately, nose-to-beak.

My jaw dropped, but I didn't have enough time to have any other reactions because the flightless bird quickly smacked me in the jugular vein and I was out cold.

At first, all I could see or feel was the darkness. I thought that this was interesting because I had never fainted or been knocked out before, so I decided to to remember the experience as much as I could.

The next thing I felt was cold, hard concrete. It wasn't the rough kind of concrete that is in outdoor basketball courts and things, but it was smooth, shiny and like a counter top.

I tried to move my wrists apart, but to my dismay they were bound behind my back. The rope was coarse – like the rope that huge fishing boats use – and it hurt my wrists when I moved. I was pretty sure that there would be a rash there in a few minutes, or at least a bunch of really scratched up skin.

I opened my eyes, then squinted in the glare or the harsh fluorescence. I immediately hated the lights. Fluorescent lights and I have a long, hard history which I don't particularly care to delve into at the moment, but I can tell you that I have always hated them. Probably because I can't help associating them with jail.

"Skipper, I've found a suspicious object!" said a voice that was out of my range of vision. "It looks like it could possibly be a communication device!"

"I opt for destroying it!" replied the penguin named Skipper in a fierce tone.

"I believe we ought to hold onto it in the meantime so we could do some research on it," said the first voice.

"Well, if you're going to keep it around here, at least swipe it so you can destroy all tracking devices it may have in it."

"Roger that, Skipper." I heard footsteps as the first voice walked away.

"Skippah!" a British voice piped up. "I've found some drawings in this book!"

"Hand 'em over, Private," said the voice named Skipper. I heard the sound of pages being turned, then I cringed as I heard a loud _SNAP!_

"Oops," said a coarse voice.

"Rico!" said Skipper. "No destroying evidence! If I catch you breaking another pen, I swear. . ."

I was done. If they were breaking my favourite pens and weren't planning on replacing them, they were going to get it, that's for sure!

I sat up and tried to move my feet, but one of my ankles was tied to the floor. The other foot, however, was completely free.

"She's awake!" cried the penguin with the accent, Private.

"No shit," I muttered, trying to stand and failing miserably. My head cracked the concrete and I was dazed for a few seconds, during which the last penguin returned to the room and all four of them had hold of me.

"Stay still," said Private.

"And no one gets hurt!" said the penguin whose name I didn't know.

"Yeah!" squawked the penguin named Rico.

"Oh, I don't think we'll be able to spare such leisure," said Skipper. "Now, tell us your objective, spy!"

"Spy?" I asked. "Well, I've always wanted to be one, but I can't say that I've had the good fortune to actually graduate to that level."

"That's an awful lot of fancy words coming from a kid spy," said Skipper with a sneer. He hopped up onto my chest and stared directly into my eyes. I'm not good with close contact and I struggled, but the penguins were tougher than I had thought and held me still.

"So. . ." said Skipper silkily. "Are you working for Doctor Blowhole?"

"Am I working for what the who?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Doctor Blowhole!" yelled Skipper with a jump. "Surely you have heard of the diabolical dolphin fiend with a bionic eye and. . . _no soul. . ._" he hissed.

"Would it offend you if I said no?" I asked, struggling into a sitting position.

Skipper gently tumbled off of me and landed on the floor. "Search her!" he commanded to his team with a wave of the flipper. "Turn the very cuffs of her jeans inside out!"

Suddenly, the penguins were all over me, patting me down and locating anything that was deemed "dangerous". They took my watch, my iPod, my chapstick, the receipt that I got for cotton candy, then they stuck their flippers in my sweater, checked the cuffs of my hoodie, jean jacket and jeans, then the one called Rico stuck his flipper inside my shoe.

My feet are pretty ticklish. I'm not ticklish anywhere else, so no one would guess, but if someone touches my feet _just_ right, the reaction they get out of me can be hilarious.

Or painful.

In this case, it was painful because I let out a laugh then kicked my foot. Really, really hard. Hikers – my favourite shoes – are really tough because they have a hard rubber tip that hurt a lot if you kick someone. Well, that's what my friends tell me, anyway. Especially right after I kick them for doing something stupid.

After my foot made contact with Rico's stomach, he flew across the room and smacked into the opposite wall, then he slumped down onto the floor and didn't rise.

The other three penguins froze, and I took this time to stand up. I picked at my wrist bondage and kicked my foot until it was free, then I jumped to my feet and started rubbing my wrists.

"Jeepers creepers," I said. "That rope is tough! Didn't you have anything, I don't know, _softer?_"

"Disarm her, men!" called Skipper, and the three remaining penguins surrounded me.

I drew myself up to my full height and said, "If you try anything, I will kick you in the crotch so hard it will start to bleed, understood?"

The penguins paused, not sure if my threat was legitimate, and I took the moment to smoke one of them – the penguin whose name I wasn't sure of – across the face with my foot and sent him sailing into the wall next to Rico.

"Kowalski!" cried Skipper.

_So _that's _his name,_ I thought.

Private and Skipper attacked me and I found myself flat on my back on the floor once again with Skipper on my chest.

"I'll ask you again," said Skipper slowly. "Who do you work for?"

"No one!" I said. "I'm a self employed cartoonist! Now, bugger off and _leave me alone!_"

"I think she's telling the truth, Skippah," said Private who was standing by my shoulder.

Kowalski and Rico both let out loud groans and Skipper said, "But what about when she attacked them?" he asked, pointing to his comrades.

"Strictly self defence!" I argued. "Now, _get off of me!_" I jumped to my feet and Skipper crashed to the floor.

"Stop _doing_ that!" he groaned, rubbing his head.

"Why don't _you_ stop climbing up on my chest?" I asked with a hint of a threat in my tone.

Skipper stood and glared at me angrily. Any terror which that look may have inspired was greatly lost in the height difference.

"Anyway," I continued. "You have no evidence at all that I'm a spy, so. . . so quit jumping on me like that! It really pisses me off!"

There was a long silence. Not the kind of silence that's peaceful or even awkward, no. This was the kind of silence that hums in your very ears to the point where it starts to get on your nerves.

"So. . . you're not a spy?" asked Skipper.

I groaned in frustration. "YES! Now GET THAT THROUGH YOUR THICK HEAD!"

Another pause. "My apologies."

"Damn right," I muttered bitterly, moving to grab my shoulder bag with my sketchbook in and what was left of my pens and pencils in it. "Now, if you excuse me," I said. "Now, I must bid you adieu." I started towards the exit, but Skipper slid over on his belly and blocked the way.

"I'm sorry," he said. "But we have to check and see if the coast is clear. It's regulation orders."

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "FINE. As long as I can get out of this hole."

Skipper frowned, said, "I resent that comment," then quickly clambered up the ladder. After a few moments, he immediately slid back down and gave me a look which I wasn't sure how to perceive.

"So. . ." I said. "Can I go?"

"Negative, soldier," he said. "Night watch is on duty. You'll have to wait until Oh-six hundred hours before you can sneak out."

"Wait, NIGHT watch? How long was I knocked out?"

"Four hours."

Quick as a kitten jacked on catnip, I snatched Skipper up and held him in front of me. "It's YOUR goddamn fault! Why did you have to capture me? GIT!"

Skipper raised a flipper, then cracked me on the back of the neck, and I was knocked out for a second time that day.

Honestly, considering that I lead such an incredibly reckless life, I was amazed that I hadn't been knocked out before I met those penguins. The same can't be said for me now, of course, because as of these days I've been knocked out more times than I have fingers, but it still amazes me that I had the good fortune not to break a bone in my body or be knocked unconscious before I was a teen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Apologies for the delay! Things have been crazy and I, Geli, have been lazy. Sorry!**

The next time I woke, I was practically alone in the penguin habitat. I glanced up at the porthole, and I saw that sunshine was sneaking in through a crack in the fishbowl.

It was morning.

I growled to myself in a low voice and stood, almost cracking my head on the low ceiling.

This only succeeded in making me more irritable, if that was possible.

"Blasted penguins," I muttered bitterly.

I heard the sound of penguin feet, then I turned to see young Private waddling in through a door I failed to notice before.

"Good morning, Miss!" he said cheerily.

"Nng. Morning." I yawned. "And don't call me 'miss'. It makes me sound like someone tried to shoot me or somethin'." Yawn. "It wouldn't be the first time someone tried, though." Yawn again.

"Sleepy?" he asked, holding his flippers behind his back in a way that made him simultaneously look innocent _and_ like he was hiding something.

"No duh," I said with another yawn. "What time is it?"

"Six o'clock."

"Fuck." I rubbed my eyes with my balled up fists. "The only time I get up _this_ early is when I'm tryin' to make the ferry. . ." Another yawn.

"You can go back to sleep, if you like," offered Private.

"I wish," I said with a snort. "Too hungry. Got any grub?"

"Grub?" he asked, furrowing his brow.

"Ugh! Snacks! Munchies! FOOD!"

His expression cleared. "Oh! Yes!" He waddled over to the fridge and swung it open. I walked over, avoiding the low ceiling, almost tripping over a chess board that was left out in the middle of the room, and knelt down next to the open fridge.

"What's there?" I asked, peering in. To my dismay, all I saw was a ton of raw fish, sixteen juice boxes and, for some odd reason, a cake.

"Why the cake?" I asked.

Private merely shrugged.

I sighed, resigned my dignity, grabbed two juice boxes and a piece of cake. I walked across the room and plopped down in the corner. I looked down at my lap. Yum. Breakfast. It wasn't my first time eating something this dumb for breakfast and it certainly wasn't to be my last, so I opened up the juice box with my thumbnail and tipped the liquid down my throat.

Private waddled over to me and handed me a fork for the cake. "You know, Miss, there _is _a straw attached."

I raised an eyebrow, paused and looked at the box. "So there is." I continued drinking from it like it was a water bottle. When Al is tired, she doesn't care about anything, you see.

I yawned yet again and stabbed my fork viciously into the cake, impaling a sad looking little strawberry then popped it into my mouth.

Private sat down in front of me and wiggled his toes. "Is it good, Miss?"

"I _said_ don't call me 'Miss'," I muttered, impaling a piece of cake on my fork.

"My apologies."

There was a pause as I ate, hunched up in the corner and muttering bitterly to myself.

"Is there anything to _do_ around here?" I asked, popping open the second juice box.

"Chess?" he asked in the peculiar accent of his.

"Nah. I hate chess."

"Why?"

I yawned again. "I suck at it. Big time. My ten year old brother beat me at it."

". . . And how old are you?"

I smirked. "Classified by the legacy of Al."

"Alright," said Private. "What about. . . do you like fish?"

"Only if it's cooked. Or in sushi."

"Swimming?"

"Can't swim. Very well. I can jump off of docks into the water and get back out again, but I hate actually _swimming_."

"I see," he said.

"Can I have my laptop back?" I asked. "I promise that I won't be bored if you give it to me."

"Sorry Alice. . ."

"My name isn't Alice."

"What's Al short for, then?"

"It's just Al," I said, scraping the last bits of my cakey breakfast off the plate. "Anyway, why can't I have my laptop?"

"Kowalski thinks he can use it for an experiment," he said quietly.

"WHA-AT?" I yelled, jumping to my feet. "Where is he now?"

"He, Skipper and Rico are out on another mission. Your laptop is hidden."

"What are they doing and _where is it?_"

He gave me a little smirk. "Classified by the legacy of the penguin."

I sighed. "What about my sketchbook?"

"Now that," said Private, jumping to his feet, "I _can_ give you." He waddled across the room, opened up a trap door that was disguised by a fish plaque, then pulled out my black book and a flipperful of pens and pencils, plus an eraser.

When he approached me, I seized these items with a desperate air and hugged them close to me. "Thanks."

"My pleasure," he said, sitting down in front of me again.

I sighed. "When will the other penguins be back?"

"I don't know, Miss."

At this point, I decided to stop correcting him. "I just want to know, because my parents will _freak_ if the landlady goes into my room, discovers that I haven't been there for a week, then calls them."

"Call the landlady, then," said Private. "You can tell her that you're staying with friends."

I grunted. "Later."

The hatch up on the ceiling opened, and the other three penguins dropped in.

"Gentlemen, I do believe a toast is in order for another successful mission," said Skipper, waddling confidently over to the fridge and pulls out a tin cup with a fish tail peeking out the top. "Cheers," he said, before downing the liquid inside.

I surveyed the scene playing out before me with a very creepy looking expression. Yes. Sometimes I practice certain expressions in the mirror, just to make sure they look right. Mostly because I wish to attain the exactly perfect level of creepiness with a single look.

Skipper shot a glance over at me and expression changed to a frown. He waddled up to me and scanned my entire appearance with his steady eye.

"What's your name, soldier?" he asked me with a drawl.

"Why?"

He blinked. He obviously wasn't used to people questioning authority. That was kind of too bad, because that's what I do best, so he had better get used to it pretty damn quick.

"What is your name?" he asked in a dark voice.

I rolled my eyes with a sigh and said, "Al Kero. That's all you need to know."

Skipper narrowed his eyes at me. "What organization do you work for?"

I let out an exasperated noise. "We've been through this! I don't work for anyone! I fly solo! I'm not a spy, I'm just a poor, hungry artist/writer with no income and bangs that are too long! THAT'S IT!"

"I believe her, Skippah," said Private, waddling up to the two of us. "I've seen her drawings. They're quite good, actually."

Skipper sighed. "Well, we still have yet to crack the code on her computer and search through the files for evidence. Until then, we'll have to keep you here."

"Gimme," I said, holding out my hand. "I can 'crack the code' if you want. It's called logging in to sane people, though. _Just_ a suggestion," I added quietly at Skipper's glare.

The penguin leader turned to Kowalski and nodded, giving him the go-ahead to smack Rico in the stomach, who promptly threw up my laptop into my lap.

"Ew. . ." I said. "How the hell did you _fit_ that in there?"

"Save the questions about Rico's digestive tract for later," said Skipper. "Now do this so called "logging in" and hack this thing!"

I rolled my eyes. "Fine." I opened up the laptop, typed in my password – which was thirteen characters, I may add. I'm paranoid – then showed the screen to Kowalski. "See anything suspicious?"

"Not yet," he said, yanking it out of my grasp. He quickly went through all the files on my computer, stopping to raise an eyebrow at some of the dumber things I've written (there are quite a few of those) or one of the pictures I've drawn (which, by the way, you can see at .com).

"What is "Kat's Tale"?" he asked. "Who is Kat? What is her tale?"

"It's a long story," I said. "Really. A hundred and fifty some-odd pages, actually."

"Really!" he said with surprise. "I can see you have dedication!"

"And extra time in English class. Let's move along."

For fifteen minutes, I sat in the corner drawing as the penguins searched through my computer files. It was long. It was boring. It was what a lot of people would call unendurable. However, I sucked it up and kept quiet while the penguins pondered whether or not I knew too much and they would have to kill me.

I sighed, and resolved to set aside my concerns and take a breather.


End file.
